Notes from me to you

....finally HERE in Baltimore and oh, the nostalgia is kicking in!

After living (or what felt like vacationing) on the west coast of California for the summer, where every day felt like a perfect late-spring afternoon, it was a bit of a shock to head east and find mid-west-like humidity and the tail end of the dog days! For some reason, I blindly assumed that the weather would be cooling and that fall would be starting. Either way, I decided I really couldn't complain about a few weeks of humidity knowing full-well that I'd escaped an entire sweltering, mid-western summer. So.. I decided that I would attempt to gracefully tolerate the rest of the thick-aired summer of Maryland.. (that's if you call sweating the minute after stepping out of the shower, graceful)! But, what other choice did I have?

Its now mid-October and it finally feels as though fall is making its seasonal nest on the east coast, so I'm trilled! The windows are open and the air is crisp as the sun peaks its head over the bay, gently warming the afternoon and leaving the evenings cool as it buries itself in behind downtown earlier and earlier each night. My cozy, chocolate brown turtleneck sweater has made its first appearance of the season, I'm teaching myself how to make pumpkin everything out of real pumpkin, and I can once again enjoy an outdoor workout. ahhh...

But something is missing....

I sit in a small, old, beautiful row home in "The Historic Federal Hill" neighborhood, reflecting on life (meh, its my day off). I hear the rumbling of machinery outside the front door. The construction of new, gigantic, luxurious, 21st Century-esque condos-attempting-to-look-like-row-homes forges on every day. These monsters continue to mutate and tower over the neighborhood, blocking whatever view anyone had of downtown, slowly creeping forward with an eventual goal of hoarding the view of the bay, as well. Despite my (obvious) frustration by this, the noise of the machinery is eerily familiar and leaves me feeling curiously... at home. They remind me of what I'm missing.. harvest.

Fall is harvest.

Fall is Dad in the fields and Mom's beautiful yard.. corn shocks bustled at the end of the deck, hay bales, pumpkins, gourds, and beautifully flowering fall-colored mums warming the yard. Climbing into the combine, squeezing into a space not intended for 20-somethings and spending time with Dad as he explains how long it takes for the machine to cut the dried stalk, husk the ears, and harvest the corn (or beans). Occasionally, he lets me sit in the big seat and steer! He can tell me how many seeds he planted in the spring, and can thus the estimated number of bushels he's harvesting this fall. Heck, he probably knows how many kernels, too! I've always wondered if all farmers think in those terms or just my adorably quirky, detail-oriented father.

Fall is a clear night, star-studded sky, cool, crisp air with the dust and faint smell of the husk of the corn. The fan of the corn dryer running, the whooshing of the corn and beans as they fall from the auger into the bins for storage. The distant lights and sounds of the machinery running late at night. Watching my brother work side-by-side with my father to bring in the crop. Taking the dinner that Mom made out to the fields so the boys can eat. Sitting on the deck, enjoying the weather and time with one of my closest friends, my mom. Its those every day moments, those memories, that will forever warm my heart and nurture my dream to some day live across the road with my amazing husband (still waiting for that one) and beautiful children (and them, too) who really know and adore my parents as much as I do.

Fall is remembering how special it was to grow up in a small community like Central. The opportunity to know almost everyone in school. To have teachers who taught your parents, know your grandparents, siblings, and cousins, too. Where the football game is everyone's Friday night plan and Homecoming is the excitement of the season. The parades, marching band, pep-rallies, TP-ing, window-paintings and more. Planning festivities, getting involved in as much as possible, and working at the store your classmates' parents own. Who graduated from the same school as you and your parents; who were once doing all the same things and thus encourage their young employees' school spirit and involvement. Where the school's photographer (another classmate's parent) takes pictures of the class prank (an old boat painted in school colors and left in the middle of the parking lot) and includes it in your package of pictures from the dance.

Fall is remembering the blessing of growing up with an amazing group people, of life-long friends. "To the end of time..."

Fall is.. my roots, my home, and though I won't be making it home during autumn this year, the memories are so vividly cherished that I can relive it any time I close my eyes, or write a silly nostalgic blog, or hear value-destructing construction outside the front door of my small, big-city home.